


A Night Out

by blueygreeny



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Post-Troubled Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27488398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueygreeny/pseuds/blueygreeny
Summary: TB left us hanging, so here's my take on champagne at the Ritz and what follows...
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 35
Kudos: 87





	A Night Out

The champagne is excellent. Mirroring the bubbles, Robin is as light-hearted as she can remember being in...well, years, truthfully. Cormoran’s smiles are also flowing fast and easy.

‘Another drink?’ He asks, when the bottle surprises them by running dry in the middle of childhood birthday reminiscences.

‘Why not?’ Robin replies, grinning. _How many more times are you going to say_ that _before the night is done_ , a bold internal voice wonders, before she shuts a door on it.

Cormoran excuses himself and is soon deep in conversation with the bar man on the other side of the softly lit room. Robin’s sure it’s the beer list that is being discussed. After a contented sigh she takes the opportunity to reach for the violet Liberty carrier bag at her feet. The bottle of Narciso sits with important weight in her hands, the glass gleaming in the light, and she cannot resist, pulling the stopper and attempting to pulse the inside of her wrist discreetly under the table. She breathes in tumbled flowers, musk and possibilities. She’s dabbing the perfume to the skin under her ear when a glass of white wine, a tumbler of whiskey and Cormoran arrive at the table. Robin tidies the perfume and bag out of the way, trying to tell herself that there’s no reason to be flushing, he hasn’t caught her in the middle of something intimate. That voice pipes up again, _he helped choose it_ , which doesn’t help as it should. She grabs for her glass and takes a hasty gulp.

Cormoran notices the blush and takes a pleasant lungful of the scent, flowers and flesh, as he sits. Making sure his shoes aren’t catching on the bag, he glimpses the champagne cork that had been on the table now nestled in beside Narciso, and the smile is definitely back in place. He toys with mentioning it as he takes a sip.

‘No buyers remorse, then?’

‘No. I really like it. Thank you again,’ Robin replies warmly.

‘And I like the necklace,’ he nods at the opal shimmering from the hollow of her throat.

‘Oh yeah,’ her fingers rise automatically to the stone. ‘I’ve done well with presents today, it’s from Mum and Dad. Didn’t realise I’d be having such a nice night out, but I wanted to wear it.’

‘No point in waiting.’ He pauses. 'Delayed gratification isn’t always a good thing,’ he smirks over the rim of the glass while Robin aspirates Sauvignon blanc, tries to stave off a coughing fit and sends him a faux outraged glare.

***

When the drinks are finished, she sets down her glass regretfully. Her hands miss having something to hold.

‘Come on,’ Robin says jumping to her feet and lifting her bag and her gift, ‘I remember a good pub the other side of Piccadilly. The crisps are on me.’ She is aiming for nonchalant, desperate to keep the momentum going. Please let the evening not end just yet. While she’s settling the bag strap on her shoulder, she assesses her companion in a flash of blue eyes.

‘Sounds good,’ Cormoran replies, necking the remnants of his drink and looking up at her and continuing in a sober tone. ‘Maybe prawn cocktail flavour if we’re really pushing the boat out?’

‘Only the very finest will do. This is no time for half measures and ready salted,’ she says firmly. There’s a mutual hesitation when he rises to stand next to her. Then he draws her arm through his and together they weave between the tables and bar stools, the waiters and the gleaming drinks into the evening air.

***

The walk to the pub is rerouted when Robin involuntarily groans at the smells emanating from a Thai restaurant near Berkeley Square.

‘Let’s turn the crisps into prawn crackers,' Cormoran declares. 'Time for some proper food Ellacott.’ He leads the way back to an awning and the door underneath. Robin admits that a Thai Green curry would be amazing right now, but she’s slightly distracted by his warm hand enveloping hers. Apart from occasional helping hands, after falls or out of dark dells, this must be another first. Another line crossed.

They are shown to an alcove between the window and a jutting wall. The table is on the small side for a man Cormoran’s size. He squeezes into the space with a rueful quirk of his mouth. To give him room for his leg, he doesn’t sit alongside the window but angled towards it. Settled opposite him as he hunches over the menu, Robin’s slightly tipsy mind makes a sudden and clear distinction for her. She feels surrounded. But, unlike the invasion of space that she’s experienced in the past, that raw feeling that would make her hackles rise, this ... this she could sink into like a warm bath. 

Turning to the window, she watches Cormoran’s reflection undetected while he finishes making his choices. The waiter comes and goes, Robin gives an order with half her attention and also plants her elbows on the table.

‘You’ve gone quiet.’ Cormoran prompts.

‘Mmmhm. Might be a li-ttle bit merry. Food is on the way. Life is good.’ A bowl of prawn crackers has materialised from a passing waiter and after taking a satisfying bite, Robin waves the remaining piece in Cormoran’s face. ‘And maybe,’ she says, ‘I’m plotting how to top this for your birthday.’

‘Oh really?’ He replies through cracker crumbs. ‘Well, before you start getting any ideas, I should warn you that I have a bad track record with surprise parties.’

‘Do tell more.’

‘Well. There was the birthday after I started uni. Mum threw a party. It got messy and the police came out. If you ever want to put Shanker off his stride just offer him Baileys.’

‘Good to know.’

‘And then there was my...31st, it must have been. The highlight of that night,’ he punctuates the story with another cracker, ‘was a cat fight.’ At Robin’s raised eyebrows he eventually elaborates. ‘Ilsa and Charlotte. Another messy one.’

‘My money would be on Ilsa,’ Robin says staunchly, refusing to allow Charlotte's shadow to cross the threshold of this evening.

‘And you would be right.’ He smiles, then stills. Elbows nearly touching, their gazes lock.

In the heartbeat that follows Robin imagines the path that has brought her, brought them, to this moment. From their first headlong clash on the office stairs, through injuries, dismissal, journeys and confidences shared. Another heartbeat and she pictures the possible paths unspooling ahead of them. There are a number of ways to go. A number of ways tonight could go, but she instinctively knows that each track will detour to this point sooner or later. And she sees no point in holding back anymore.

Robin’s hands have been cradling her chin. But on her next tremulous breath in, she tracks the impulse that flies like electricity from her brain, over her shoulder and down her arm. _Move. Touch him._ And then her palm is cupping his cheek, rasping along the stubble that is reasserting itself.

‘Robin...’ Cormoran’s gaze is alert but cautious. He is as still as a glass teetering on the edge of the table. _Just one little nudge._ Robin traces the line of his jaw again. There’s a tremor that she feels echoed in a twist of her stomach. Now. She chooses now.

Robin’s hand reaches further into Cormoran’s thick, dark hair and, with a little tug, his lips fall on hers. It’s gentle and slow, teasing almost. _Finally_ , Robin’s internal voice says, and Robin spares a fleeting thought to agree with it.

A little sigh escapes her as the kiss begins to deepen.

‘Robin...Christ,’ Cormoran drags his mouth away apologetically and rests his full brow against her’s. The chatter and clatter of the surrounding restaurant, the press of the too small, but not small enough, table rushes back into her awareness. _Thank goodness for ribcages_ , Robin thinks, as she catches her breath. Without one her heart would be bobbing around at head height like her donkey balloon. She’s smiling and she’s pretty sure she will be for days, weeks, to come.

‘That was...I can’t...’ His hand finds hers and squeezes. Robin has never known him lost for words. It’s an article of faith that Cormoran is always articulate even when he’s utterly pissed. _I did that_ , the voice that has become her own preens and Robin's smile, somehow, widens.

‘I’m having a great birthday,’ she says. ‘And I’m going to give instant gratification more of a try.’

**Author's Note:**

> A little nod in there to the Robin and champagne corks fic I read fairly recently but which I can't now find, happy to credit properly if someone would help me out?!  
> Edit: the fic is 'Blanc de Blancs' and you can read it here: [**Blanc de Blancs**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877262) (200 words) by [**RaeNonnyNonny**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeNonnyNonny)  
>  While I’ve written fics set in other fandoms in the past, this is actually the first I’ve ever posted. So, plenty to work on I'm sure, while having some fun. A few more ideas are percolating in my head, including a possible follow up to this, we'll see how that goes. I'm enjoying reading and chatting in this community very much.  
> I’m in awe of those of you doing daily drabbles and also those planning and writing multiple chapters. Keep them coming!  
> 


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